


Pine Post-Armanigeddon

by eff_reality



Series: Armani video-inspired ficlets [1]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1868667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eff_reality/pseuds/eff_reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Chris in NY after Armanigeddon.  Zach takes one look at him and realizes introvert!pie is close to a collapse.  Cue lots and lots of TLC.  Inspired by <a href="http://media.tumblr.com/0f6984b74c8e336f253f7ec6114a0432/tumblr_n7v8mgawgm1rt4nl7o2_400.gif">this gif</a> from the Armani video.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pine Post-Armanigeddon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [satismagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/satismagic/gifts).



There’s nothing familiar about the Chris that greets Zach in the lobby of the Bowery, and it has less to do with his hair and his really fucking expensive Italian suit than it does with how shell-shocked he looks. He’s fresh off of an overseas flight so he’s probably cranky (and definitely hungry), but he doesn’t even have it in him to spare Zach a smile. His eyes are vacant and his hug even less than half-hearted. 

A small, insane part of Zach wonders if this is permanent, if this is just how it’s going to be between the two of them from now on. He starts wondering what he did, or didn’t do. His suspicions point to any number of things. Their relationship has never been simple.

Chris rushes headfirst toward the elevator, Zach shuffling close on his heels, readying himself for whatever is about to come. When the doors shut, Chris mutters a polite question or two about Zach’s latest endeavors; Chris is nothing if not well-mannered, even at the worst of times. But Zach can see his hands shaking under the cuffs of his white dress shirt, eyes manic as they watch the floors tick by.

Zach is hoping for an exhale and then, ( _please, God_ ), a smile once they’re ensconced in the privacy of Chris’ room, but neither comes. The room is barely settled in: just an extra key on the armoire, Chris’ suitcases upright and tucked into the corner, a mini bottle of Jameson depleted on its side on the duvet. His eyes return to Chris as he walks toward the window, silent, raking his hands through his hair, messing it up.

 _How are you?_ clearly wouldn’t even begin to cover it. Zach waits.

Eventually, Chris turns back to him, his brilliant eyes shining in the dark room.

“ _Chris._ ” Zach extends a sympathetic hand toward him, and that’s all it takes for him to break.

"I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. You know, I made this pact to myself last year that anything I do from now on is going to be for me and me alone, that I’m only going to do the things that make me happy and fulfill me, and that are aligned with who I am as a human being. And I just spent the last four days in a monkey suit talking to people I wouldn’t know the first thing to say to, being lauded by complete strangers for, what? Looking a certain way? Having a certain face, a certain body. I’m not even _doing_ anything, I’m just a fucking—” Chris shakes his head and throws open the door to the minibar, then quickly slams it shut again. “And I’m fucking _dying_ to be doing a play right now. And I _had_ one, a really _good_ one, and I was so ready for it. It was the first thing I actually gave a shit about in I can’t even remember how long, and I had to give that up, too. It’s like, all I’m doing is making concessions for other people. My life isn’t my life right now. It’s like it’s not even me in my own body anymore.”

"Hey," Zach says gently, taking a tentative step closer, fully expecting another outburst. Instead, Chris closes in for a fierce hug, his nose and mouth hot against the juncture of Zach’s shoulder. His chest trembles, and he sniffs. Zach pulls him in even tighter. He feels the first hot tear roll down his neck and under the collar of his shirt, and combs a hand through Chris’ hair, giving him silent permission.

It’s then that Zach’s fucking phone vibrates in his pocket. Chris moves to pull away, but Zach keeps him there, blindly turning the phone off and tossing it onto the bed, upsetting the empty bottle there. 

"Please get it," Chris insists, trying to pull away again, but Zach pulls him back in even harder than before. 

"It’s not important."

Chris releases a hearty groan into Zach’s shoulder. “What am I doing?”

"You are building a career," Zach says sagely. "A really amazing career. And that means making compromises sometimes. But if it gets to be too much—and I think it’s safe to say that you’re reaching that point—you have to start saying no to some of the things you really don’t want to do. And that’s that. And I know it feels out of your control sometimes, but it’s not. You’re you. No one else can be you for you. You could walk away from it all tomorrow if you really wanted to. Be a hermit." He rocks Chris a little. "I know that totally appeals to you; don’t lie."

Chris giggles, pulling away, his nose all snotty and his eyes bloodshot. He looks grateful.

Zach holds his face in his hands and wipes everything away with his thumbs. “There you are. I almost recognize you now.”

Chris smiles softly and wipes at his own eyes. “I’m still angry about the Tonys. That’s really what this was all about.” He flaps a hand around to indicate his outburst.

"I appreciate it," Zach laughs. "Now get out of that suit. I’m going to order room service, and we’re going to stay here and eat, and remind ourselves of how lucky we both are."

"…Do you think I could finagle a world famous Zachrub out of you?"

Zach heaves a put-upon sigh, his heart pounding at the prospect. “Maybe. Go get changed.”

"Yes, sir," Chris says, already shuffling toward his suitcases.


End file.
